Dreams of Children
by hobbitsdoitbetter
Summary: I was headng somewhere dark Harry...and then I met Cordelia. How exactly did Ginny just get over the events of CoS? Crossover with Angel, AU. I'm sure it's been done before, but this is my take...
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer:_ This story is not written for profit and no infringement of copyright is intended.

Unbetaed so mistakes are all mine…

**DREAMS OF CHILDREN**

**Chapter one**

Harry Potter pulled the fridge closed and turned off the kitchen lights. It was half eleven on Friday the 29th of August, and even the constant gloom of Grimmauld Place would not dim the happiness he was feeling. Soon he would be returning to Hogwarts, the only home the 16-year-old wizard had ever known. He would get to play Quidditch, visit Hagrid, even try NOT to get stuck in the Forbidden Forest for once. He felt desperate to be back, now more than ever, because there was nothing in the dank, decrepit Order of the Phoenix HQ which didn't remind him of his late godfather. Irascible, irresponsible, irreplaceable Sirius Black seemed to have seeped into every pore of the house, and everything Harry touched brought back memories. Harry's stomach would clench reliving the time Sirius had dropped something, or thrown something at him; the silence his bark-like laugh left was enormous. But then Harry would feel a wave of shame that he could ever feel sad to remember Sirius, as if he was insulting his godfather to his face. It was complicated, and sometimes he felt as if there was so much going on inside him that his head would explode. "Nobody could feel all that at once, Hermione, they'd go mental," he murmured to himself, remembering Ron's (usual) deft analysis of the human condition. A small grin split his face as Hermione's answer came back to him. His friend was a bloke through and through. And blokes had their own ways of getting through stuff like this.

Thinking of Ron and Hermione caused his smile to widen. It would seem that having the "emotional depth of a teaspoon," hadn't hurt Ron where Miss Granger was concerned. Two weeks ago he had walked into Ron's room to find his two best friends in a position they certainly hadn't learned in the DA. There had been a moment's deafening silence and then he'd burst out laughing, a response which seemed to relieve and annoy Hermione at the same time. Ron had tried to explain, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water, but Hermione had slowly and resolutely taken a handful of Harry's jumper and pushed him out the door. She'd smiled when she done it, and Harry had understood. As he'd walked away he'd heard her usual bossy "Oh for God's sake, Ron…" And whatever happened afterwards, he felt, was none of his business.

He padded back to his room, taking care not to be heard. His every movement seemed to provoke enormous interest from the adults in the house, as if they fully expected to find him hanging from a rope in his room. Everyone was Very Concerned, he thought, feeling his anger begin to rise. If they'd had the same interest in his feelings this time last year the tragedy of Sirius' death might never have happened. But then nobody had worried about Harry then. He could feel himself beginning to stomp, angry with the world, angry with himself, and sure that at any moment Mrs. Weaseley would pop out with a glass of pumpkin-juice and some sympathy, as if that would help.

Instantly he regretted his anger. Mrs. Weaseley was not to blame for what had happened. None of the people living in this giant crypt were responsible for what had happened to Sirius. Harry saw the person responsible every time he looked in a mirror; in fact he'd had to cover the one in the room he shared with Ron, and it was a measure of how worried his friend was that he hadn't said anything, even _with_ his new-found interest in hair-gel. (Ron had taken to enchanting his hair so that it stood up at the front like that Muggle Timberlake. Harry had been mystified until The Hermione Incident). No, he couldn't blame anyone else; he had to take responsibility for what had happened. The Boy Who Lived had caused someone to die.

He peeked around the corner and checked out the door to Ron's room. There was no light showing under the door; this probably meant that he was asleep. It was safe to enter, he wouldn't have to make small talk, he wouldn't-

"Oh Ron!" That was Hermione's voice. Harry stopped dead. A month ago he wouldn't have thought she was capable of making a sound so, so… girly. It was kind of disturbing, thinking of Hermione being a girl. She was, well, _Hermione_. At that moment he heard the door to the kitchen downstairs open and recognised Mrs. Weasel's tread on the stairs. Panicking he ducked into the nearest room, hoping he wasn't interrupting the twins in some mischief. This room at least had a light on. Harry turned to apologise and realised that he'd made a mistake. For sitting on the bed, face creased in concentration, sat Ginny.

Harry's relationship with Ginny had changed almost beyond recognition since last year. He'd never really known her until she'd joined the DA: silent and nervous around him, unable or unwilling to look him in the eye, they had seemed like strangers who knew a lot about each other, rather than two friends. But now she treated him just like one of her brothers. She would laugh with him, ask for help with her homework, defend him in school, stop and talk between classes. Of course, since he was now officially the Eighth Weaseley, she also thumped him, threw things at him, hid and stole his stuff as she saw fit and in one memorable incident dragged him from her room via a combination of his ear and his knee. There were times when he actually missed the silent, demure Ginny of old. But they didn't last long. It was impossible to be awkward around her now, at least. And the awkwardness had been worse than anything.

She looked up at the sound of the door closing, and Harry was astonished to see tears in her eyes. She looked fierce, as if she were angry that she'd been found out: the Weaseley pride was formidable. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. For a moment he felt sure that she would start yelling and throw him out; for a moment she seemed to be considering it too, but instead she snapped "Close that bloody door, if you're coming in!" in a tone that reminded him strongly of her mother.

She stood up, her hands clenched in fists, and began to pace. Harry sat down on the bed opposite hers, wishing to get out of her way before she ran him down. He somehow knew that he shouldn't say anything: like her mother she would speak when she felt like it and not a minute before. He waited, tucking his legs in beneath him, hoping he was doing the right thing, hoping he wouldn't have to wait long, relieved almost that Hurricane Ginny was about to roll into town. It would be a relief to think about someone else's problems for once…

She suddenly looked up at him, as if for a moment she'd forgotten he was there. She stopped pacing and sat down, her movements jerky and angry. She didn't seem to know what to do with her hands. She opened her mouth, closed it again, then opened it. Sucking in breath through her teeth she fixed him with her deadliest glare, then thrust the letter into his hands and threw herself onto her bed, trying to wipe her eyes with the back of her hand surreptitiously. She noticed Harry looking, and he dropped his eyes to the letter, suddenly feeling a blast of sympathy for his friends last year. Teenage angst wasn't fun for anyone…

The letter was hand-written, with a letterhead proudly proclaiming "Wolfram & Hart Law Firm, Los Angeles." Black ink, the handwriting elegant and slanting, the paper creased. It read

_Dear Miss Weaseley,_

_My name is Wesley Wyndham-Price. I believe we met very briefly that first time you were in Los Angeles, when you visited Cordelia at our headquarters in The Hyperion Hotel. (Of course you might not remember me, you were having a very difficult night at the time). I was a close friend of Cordy's, and I know that she cared a great deal about you, a fact which makes what I have to tell you that much harder. Please forgive our delay in contacting you, but until your letter arrived on my desk I believed that everyone who knew Cordy knew what had become of her. I can only apologise if our thoughtlessness has caused you pain._

_I must tell you that Cordelia Chase is dead. She was the latest (and for me, the dearest and closest) in the list of casualties amongst those who fight against the forces of darkness. A foul thing took her from us slowly, and before we knew what happened she had slipped away from us. My only consolation is the fact that I know she is in a better place, looking down on all of us and guiding us. She was the bravest, strongest, most loving woman it has ever been my pleasure to know, and I'm sure you will miss her as much as I do. For me Cordy exemplified the best in all of us: I believe you said it best when you stated that you wanted to be Cordelia when you grew up. We all did, and all the people who knew her and you want to send their sympathies. We hope that the few small items enclosed with this will bring you some comfort, though you are in distress. If you want to write to us we would love to hear from you, to share with someone who knew Cordy and loved her as we did. I enclose an address where I might be contacted, and hope to hear from you._

_With deepest sympathies,_

_Wes_

Harry looked up at Ginny. "Who was Cordelia Chase?" Wordlessly she held out a Muggle photograph, the type taken by a Polaroid camera like the one Dudley had broken and blamed Harry on when they were five. A very pretty young woman with short dark hair and a bright smile greeted him: she was hugging a much younger Ginny. Someone had written "Typical witches!" on the back with an orange marker. Despite the difference in their ages they looked like they were having a great time, and Harry silently wondered why he'd never seen Ginny that happy when she was around him. But then she looked much younger, and when she'd been much younger she had rarely laughed around Harry…

She stared back silently, seeming to crumple like a paper doll, as if all energy had left her. She seemed to be looking inward, as if she didn't even know that he was there. He made to sit beside her but she flinched and he sat back down, upset and slightly bewildered. Instead he took the corner opposite her on the bed across, curling up and watching her helplessly, unsure what to do but knowing that he couldn't leave. He remembered the date with Cho in Madame Puddyfoot's. There was the same feeling that events were careening out of his control, only this time it was a million times worse. The silence stretched out, the tension was unbearable, and try as he might he couldn't think of any way to change it.

"She was a friend of mine." Ginny said suddenly, her voice in the silence causing him to jump. She had her head down, and the veil of her red hair fell across her face, obscuring her expression. "She… helped me, at a time when I had nobody. She, she… I looked up to her, I suppose." Now she raised her head and glared defiantly at Harry, as if she were daring him to laugh at her. He flinched when he met her eyes, and both dropped their gazes down. "She was just… cool. Like Bill. It was… I don't know," and again she seemed to sink into the bed, weighed down with helplessness.

"What happened Gin?"

Now she met his eyes, challenging him, weighing him up. It made him nervous. "I could get someone for you is you don't want to talk to me."

"Which one of the reprobates I'm related to would you get? Fred or George? Percy? Ron? Ron'd run a mile before he'd have a serious talk with me. And Hermione's _busy_." She tried to smirk, but it came out pained. The act wasn't working.

Harry took a deep breath. "Well then I s'pose you're stuck with me. Out with it Weaseley, come on." He hoped the bravado would convince her. He couldn't think of anything else.

She broke eye contact and slouched back on the bed. Everything about her screamed "Moody and Defensive." Again a silence that seemed to last an age, and then he heard her sigh. "What I tell you never leaves this room Potter, you got it? Never ever, not even to Ron or I will never speak to you again as long as I live."

"OK."

She shot him another look, as if she once again she were testing him. "I suppose you remember our little jaunt into the Chamber of Secrets? How you had to come and save me from Tommyboy?" Disgust dripped from every word. Harry nodded wordlessly. It was the one subject they had never talked about, even since Ginny's change of heart towards him. It was just too painful and besides, how did you slip having your soul sucked dry by the disembodied memory of the most evil wizard who'd ever lived into a conversation? Maybe she didn't see his discomfort because she ploughed on, almost as if she were talking to herself. "Well poor little Ginny didn't recover from that quite as quickly and neatly as everyone wants to think. In fact-" the confidence slipped from her voice and for a split second Harry thought with panic that she was going to cry- "In fact poor little Ginny didn't recover from it at all. Oh I know it seemed like I did, but well, you know how deceptive appearances can be." She threw him a wan little grin. "I smiled, and played, and studied, and nobody asked me what really happened in that hole you found me in. Nobody was brave enough." She fixed him with a sudden glare. "Are you brave enough, Harry?"

Again he nodded wordlessly. He didn't think he'd ever be able to produce words again.

"Well, I was having what you might call "adjustment problems," when I came home. I was-" the attitude dropped again for a second and Harry was reminded of the little girl who'd tried to help him stand on a broken leg. "I was going somewhere dark Harry. And I'm afraid of the dark, y'know. Was back then. Still am, even now. And then, then I met Cordy…"

_Three Years Before_

Ginny slipped silently out of bed and reached for her wand. It was half past twelve on Friday night and she definitely had somewhere to be. With ease born of practice she rolled out of bed in one swift, cat-like movement and reached for her bag. The Burrow was silent: Mum and Dad were asleep by now, the twins were probably concocting some new piece of derangement in their bedroom, Ron was dreaming of the Chudley Cannons like a good little wizard. Nobody would see her, like nobody had seen her the last seven times she'd done this. Just like nobody had seen her when she'd been stealing her brother's brooms from the shed three years before. Being small and unnoticed had definite advantages, she thought with a satisfied smile. Pulling off her pyjamas she groped in the dark for a black denim bag, knowing better than to light her wand. Mum was a light sleeper and very sensitive to light: none of her boys had figured out that it was the glow from their wands, however faint, which alerted her to their mischief. But then, brothers usually weren't that smart, now were they? Ginny pulled out a pair of black jeans, a silver and black lacy top and a pair of very high platform shoes. Her battle armour. Within a moment she was dressed and brushing her hair, trying to get the curls caused by always having it plaited out. She didn't want to look like a little girl, after all. Finally satisfied she pulled the bag into her back, wand in one hand, shoes in the other, when she hit something.

Beside her bed there was a small statuette of a purple unicorn that danced in the dark. It had been a present from Percy "to cheer her up after all that nastiness." She'd stared at it, wondering how on earth this was supposed to make her feel better after what she'd experienced, when she'd seen the desperate, pained look of anticipation on her brother's face. How could she disappoint him and let him know that nothing and no one could make her feel better? So she'd taken it and hugged him, and when she'd gone into her room she'd displayed it prominently, right in front of her bedside mirror, so that her mother would see it and know how Unaffected and Happy she was. But lately she found that she couldn't even look at it and she'd covered it. But once again her mum had taken it out and given it pride of place, just like she'd uncovered Ginny's mirror, which was now glinting slickly in the moonlight. Ginny picked up a silk scarf off the floor and covered the looking glass before replacing the unicorn statue within its folds. She couldn't bear either: more than once as she'd stared at her reflection in the mirror while she got ready to go out she'd been overcome with the urge to put her tiny fist through the glass. But it didn't matter. Because now both were covered, and she was safe.

Taking tiny steps she slipped out, down the creaky stairs which were better than a nightingale floor for alerting her parents (except that every one of their children knew exactly which steps made what sounds and how to get around them.) She hurried out to the shed in the back yard, her teeth chattering with the cold. (She hadn't brought a coat, she wouldn't need one where she was going). Within moments she was inside the shed.

The shed always reminded Ginny of her father. It was the only place in The Burrow that seemed to be truly his. When she'd been a little girl he'd taken her down there when her brothers got too much and sat her on his knee and let her play with the Muggle toys which he'd collected. The shed had been a veritable Aladdin's cave of exotic wonders like clockwork mice and tiny model cars that _didn't_ move. None of the other girls had had toys like hers. And as she'd gotten older she'd graduated to helping him work on his car. In fact, it was because of that car that she'd discovered the shed's Big Secret.

The shed was cloaked. It wasn't Unplottable, or anything, but her father had somehow managed to subtly slip it off the Ministry's radar. It made sense really; he couldn't have been working on a magical car with the ministry breathing down his neck. So Arthur had simply cloaked the building. He could've been working on resurrecting Voldemort and nobody would have been able to tell. No piece of magic, however powerful, which was cast in this room would show up on the Ministry's radar. Ginny smiled at the thought of how she was pulling the wool over everyone's eyes as she pulled out her wand.

_Do you really not want people to know what's going on Ginny? _A voice whispered in her head. _Haven't we had trouble with that method before?_

Ginny pushed the voice to the back of her mind and concentrated. Apparition without a licence was a criminal offence, and even if it wasn't being self-taught as she was had disadvantages: she wanted a night on the tiles, not to be stuck inside a wall or lost in Outer Mongolia. And tonight was a full moon: the old Apparition manual she'd taught herself from said that Apparating during a full moon was full of dangers. The thought somehow appealed, though she didn't want to examine why too closely. So she steeled herself, pulled out her wand and (with one more check that she was alone) she enunciated clearly "Knockturn Alley."

She was away.

A/N Should I continue? Review and let me know:-)


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer_: This story is not written for profit and no infringement of copyright is intended.

**DREAMS OF CHILDREN **

**Chapter Two**

Ginny hit the ground with a thud. She'd never felt anything quite like that before. Normally Apparating was instantaneous, the effects little more than a ringing in her ears. But this? She felt like a truck had hit her. Her whole body seemed to be aching like she'd run a million miles, and her chest felt tight as if she had a great weight pressed down upon it. Beneath her she felt cold stone, her hands were damp with mud and scum. The air was bitterly cold, her breath misting in front of her face and as if from far away she could hear a horrible slithering, almost as if a giant snake were stalking her, trying to draw her in…

She jerked as if she'd been electrocuted and sprang to her feet. This was not the Chamber of Secrets. There was no Tom Riddle here, she repeated it to herself over and over, trying to calm her hammering heart, hating the panic that was spreading through her body with a passion she'd believed herself incapable of a few months ago. This was just a nasty stinky alley in London, and that had been where she was heading after all, she told herself. This wasn't so unusual; everything was going according to plan.

Then the plan went out the window.

Because suddenly a huge blue, well _thing_, with the longest, most vicious claws even she'd ever seen slinked down the alley. It was emitting a terrible, hungry growling from somewhere in the back of its throat, its tail flocking from side to side like a snake's, like a basilisk-

And then Ginny saw the giant. Not a proper giant, like the ones she'd seen in her Magical History books, but the largest human man she'd ever seen. He seemed enormous in the moonlight, an axe in one hand, what appeared to be a crucifix in the other, a long, (and surprisingly chic) coat flapping behind him in he breeze. His hair was stocking up all over the place, a little bit like Harry's in fact (she felt herself begin to blush and ordered her cheeks to stop turning red. It didn't work). But he looked paler than any human she'd ever seen.

The big man yanked the blue thing by the tail and pulled it towards himself, all the while muttering beneath his breath. The thing gave out a slightly comic yowl of pain and turned around, knocking the big man backwards with one of the huge arms it was trailing along the ground. The man grunted, let out a few choice swearwords and picked himself up, shaking his head like a dog that had been winded. He threw himself at the thing, raining down blow after blow with the axe, but still it wouldn't die. Ginny raised her wand with a shaking hand, determined to help with her magic, feeling sure that the man must be an Auror who needed her help, when suddenly the thing stopped moving. Her breath caught in her throat as it lay still, and she felt her eyes prickle with tears. "It's not dead, it's not dead," she chanted, hopping from one foot to the other, unable to tear her eyes from the beast, convinced that any moment it would rear up-

"NOW do you believe that the Osmonds are in league with the dark side?" The voice was female and young, the accent American. Ginny spun around to see a tall, lithe young woman with short dark hair aiming a crossbow at the creature. "It was all, "you're being paranoid Cordelia," and "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard Cordelia," and then whammo! Mr. Chosen One over there is very nearly Mr. Smeared All Over the Restroom Wall, and the seer here is having to save your championing ass-"

"Thank you Cordy!" The giant stood up and glowered down at the woman, who seemed completely unbothered by him. "The seer was right, the champion was wrong, can we please now go and get some dinner?" The pleading tone seemed funny to Ginny, since she would have thought that the big man hardly needed that woman's permission to leave. But then, she knew from her own mum that most men needed a woman's permission to do anything…

At that moment Ginny stepped back, intent on leaving and finding her way back to Knockturn Alley, when her heel hit off a piece of glass. Instantly both the Muggles turned around, peering into the darkness, which had thus far hidden her. Afraid she was about to find the same treatment as the blue creature, the little girl stepped forward, well aware of what she must look like. Oh God, her mum was going to find out what she'd been up to. _Harry_ was going to find out what she'd been up to. Her dad was going to find out that she'd abused his trust and used the Big Secret of the Shed to go gallivanting about in The Room of Requirement, an establishment most wizards her age weren't even supposed to know existed… In her place most girls her age would've felt like crying. But all Ginny could feel was that hollow, ever-present emptiness…

"Angel, it's a little girl!" the young woman whispered.

"Cordelia, I think she can hear you," the giant man said dryly.

Cordelia shot him a look. "Hey sweetie, what you doing back there?" Ginny stepped further into the light, and the young woman caught her breath. "Jeez, you can't be any more than 12 or 13. What you doing on this end of Sunset on a night like this?" Ginny opened her mouth to respond but nothing came out.

"You a runaway?" the man asked in a no-nonsense sort of a voice. "You got somewhere where you can sleep, y'know, a shelter or something?" He looked more closely at her clothes. "Look, don't be afraid-" Afraid, Ginny thought, did he really think that thing could scare her? - "I know this looks, well, odd-"

"Odd?" Cordelia butted in, "you think it's _odd_ that she just witnessed a demon slaying on her way home from a party?"

Ginny nodded. She still hadn't taken her eyes off Big Blue, even though the corpse was still unmoving and starting to smoke ever so slightly.

Cordelia followed her line of vision and smiled what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "It's ok, honey, that thing won't hurt you anymore. It won't hurt anyone." She nodded at the man. "That's what me and the mook over there do. We make sure that things like that don't get to hurt people."

Suddenly Ginny shifted her gaze to the young woman. Her words seemed so hollow, and yet she seemed to believe in them… And suddenly something else occurred to Ginny. They both had American accents. From far away she could hear passers-by, and they sounded American too. Had the Yanks finally invaded? Or, her heart skipped a beat, had she managed to Apparate herself a very long way past her destination? The warning in the manual about the dangers of Apparating during the full moon floated back to her. She most certainly wasn't in London. In fact, she most certainly wasn't in _England_ anymore…

The enormity of what she had done suddenly hit her and for the first time in months she actually felt something. Granted, it was panic, but just for a moment she felt like her old self again. She gave out a little gasp, unable still to get the words out, and the two Muggles turned towards her. The young woman reached for her, taking her gently by the elbow and crouching down to face the young witch. She smiled that bright smile again, and hooked a strand of her red hair back behind her ear, like her mum used to do. "Do you have anywhere you can go, honey?"

Mutely, Ginny shook her head. She could feel her lips beginning to tremble, and she suddenly felt furious. She's wanted to feel something, anything, for so long, and now that she could feel she didn't want to cry! Cordelia reached forward and tipped her face upwards by the chin, examining her in the moonlight. "Oh honey, don't cry!" she whispered. The woman looked at the large man, who nodded. "I suppose we're gonna have to get you something to eat. And then we can talk about it, ok?" She stood up put an arm around her shoulders, leading her away. The panic was beginning to solidify in Ginny's belly, and she silently felt for her wand in her bag. She would show them if they tried anything. Oh, she would show them…

A/N So you like? Want to read more? Let a girl know..:-P


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer_: This story is not written for profit and no infringement of copyright is intended.

**DREAMS OF CHILDREN **

**Chapter Three**

Ginny pulled her jacket more tightly around her shoulders and stared apprehensively at the building around her. She was standing in the foyer of what appeared to be a hotel, though there were no bellhops, no waiting staff and (most worryingly, for a 13 year old girl on her own in a strange city) no other guests. The two people who had brought her here were conversing quietly in a corner, trying not to look suspicious. Ginny could tell they were talking about her because every so often they would look over at her, catch her catching them and then resume their conversation with a pained, guilty smile. The young witch felt absolutely exhausted, but she refused to show it. Instead she squared her shoulders and held her chin high, knowing that now, more than ever, she needed to appear strong. She couldn't go around looking like some poor little girl-

She pushed the thought away: she knew what happened to poor little girls when they assumed that someone wasn't going to harm them.

Suddenly she heard a loud bang and jumped. A broom had been left leaning against a door that had just been opened, and suddenly a very tall, thin young woman stumbled into the room. Despite herself Ginny reached forward to help the woman to her feet, meeting her bright grin with one of her own.

"Fred!" the giant called with a slightly goofy grin, and Ginny was reminded of the way Charlie or Bill smiled at her when she used to catch them sneaking back into the house after a night on the tiles. The young woman pushed her messy brown hair off her face, simultaneously knocking her glasses off her nose, and Ginny thought she saw Cordelia snort with laughter.

"Angel!" the messy woman responded, practically glowing with happiness. Ginny was familiar with this response. She'd behaved like this every time Harry had even looked her way since they'd met. It occurred to Ginny that this "Fred," must have a crush on Angel nearly as big as the one she had on Harry, and felt her heart soften in sympathy at this fellow traveller. "Oh, and who's this?"

"I'm Ginny," she said politely, holding out her hand.

"Are y'all from England, with an accent like that?" She shook Ginny's hand energetically, almost pulling her arm out of the socket. "You sound just like my friend Wes. Are you from the Watcher's Council too?"

The little witch shook her head, unsure what to make of that. "No, I'm from-"

"Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," another voice finished. This time she recognized the accent as English; this must be the "Wes," Fred had mentioned. Another man, slightly younger and smaller than Angel came forward, a welcoming smile on his face. Once again, Ginny felt an immediate liking for this person, though she couldn't say why. Maybe it was because with his dark hair and his glasses, he reminded her ever so slightly of Harry. Or maybe it was because she was (demonstrably) a terrible judge of character and this bloke was actually some kind of powerful dark wizard too. God knew, she seemed prone to liking them. At this thought she visibly stiffened, and once again felt for her wand in her bag.

Wes misread her reaction. "Don't be alarmed, please. I know we- What's the term you use? Mungles?-"

"Muggles," she soundlessly corrected.

"We Muggles aren't supposed to know about the school, but I'm a special case. My grandmother was the liaison between the Watcher's Council and the Ministry for Magic during the war. She always wanted to get a chance to see the school for herself."

"So what're you saying, Wes, that she's some kind of magical being?" Angel broke in, a hint of concern in his voice.

"Yes, it's, well it's complicated actually. I suppose you'd say that this young lady's family, and many others all over the world have a natural predisposition towards magic. That's right, isn't it, Miss..?"

"Weaseley. Virginia Weaseley," she said, drawing herself up. "But how did you know where I was from?"

Wes actually smiled at that. "You used the word "apparate," to describe how you got here. Cordy called on the cell-phone to ask me to look it up on the way over. I recognised it. Very few other people would have. So, would you like some tea?" he continued, as if this were the most normal thing in the world. Ginny wasn't sure she could get her head around the idea that random Muggles out there simply knew about Hogwarts: it seemed really wrong somehow. But then, what did she know? For all she understood, Professor McGonagall could be a rock star over here and she wouldn't know (though somehow, Dumbledore seemed more the rock star type: she'd have to tell him when she got back…) Unsure how to respond, she found herself nodding numbly, and Wes bustled off, followed by Fred. She saw Cordy give the giant man a significant look at which he nodded and followed his friends deliberately into the other room.

"Seems a lot of people just to make some tea," Ginny began, wanting to make sure Cordy knew she was dealing with an equal. She wasn't going to pretend to be thick.

The other woman actually smiled appreciatively at her. "Oh, from what I hear you Brits make a huge deal out of your tea. With this amount of people on the case the result should be awesome. Though," she laughed slightly here, "the thought of Angel trying to do anything with that hob is mucho entertaining. I'm convinced he's gonna set himself on fire one of these days."

"Touched by the clumsy fairy, as my mum says?" she rejoined, thinking of Ron and his butterfingers.

"That's a nice way to put it." Cordy gestured to the couch. "So, you want to actually come into the house now that you've insulted the man of it? I promise, sweetie, I won't bite." Reluctantly Ginny walked further in. "See, that wasn't so difficult." Wes bustled in, carrying a tray with a silver tea-pot, milk and sugar and a small plate of biscuits ("And I used to wonder why people thought you were gay," Cordelia muttered sarcastically, laughing to take the sting out of her words and laying a hand easily on his shoulder. Inwardly, Ginny sighed, remembering how once upon a time making personal contact with those around her had been that easy. Now she couldn't bring herself to touch anyone).

"Why aren't they coming in?" she asked bluntly as Wes shuffled out.

"They're scaredy-cats. They like to leave the touchy-feely stuff to me."

""Touchy-feely"?" she asked innocently.

"Yeah, y'know, feelings, personal problems, most of the lighter decapitation work. It pays to be a girl…" Seeing Gin's horrified look she laughed. "Oh, I'm just joking! It's just that, well-" She put down her tea-cup. "To be honest, I don't think it's an accident that we found you in that alley. And if it's not accidental, if we were meant to find you, then there's something we're supposed to help you with."

"Says who?"

"We call them The Powers That Be, cos, y'know, it's simpler. But other people have other names for them. They're, well, it's like we're kinda free-lance agents for them. Mostly what that means is that they send me messages, images with an address attached of whatever Big Bad is gonna rise in LA and we stop it. It's kinda our calling."

Ginny stared at Cordy in unabashed amazement. "You're a seer?"

"Yeah." She didn't seem to think there was anything usual in that.

"But they're incredibly rare!" She was staring at her reverently. "There hasn't been a seer born into a wizarding family in something like 7 generations! Back home, you'd be a celebrity! And you think you made a prophecy about me?"

"Whoa, no, not a prophecy. I just see things a few hours before they happen and try to change them. I ain't Elrond, honey!" Cordelia laughed uncomfortably and took a sip of her tea. "What I meant was that I think maybe The Powers wanted me to find you and help you out."

"Nobody's interested in helping me out." Just as suddenly as it had arrived, Ginny's excitement fled, and her voice regained its flat tone. If there was some great power keeping the universe going then where the hell had it been when she needed it the most? Where had it been in the Chamber of Sec-

Involuntarily she jerked the cup and spilt her tea.

"Sorry, I'm so clumsy…"

"That's ok, it's just a silly cup!" That's what her mum would've said, she thought. And suddenly, for some reason she couldn't fathom, Ginny felt herself tearing up. Maybe it was the stress of the evening, maybe it was simply tiredness, maybe it was the fact that she'd heard Ron and Hermione discussing Harry and someone called Cho Chang this morning, but suddenly everything seemed to be on top of her and she couldn't breath. She sucked her breath in sharply through her teeth and willed the tears to go away before Cordy saw them, but no such luck. She was finally having tea with someone who _wanted_ to see what was wrong with her. And maybe that was the reason: she could cry in font of Cordelia because she wasn't one of her family, because her pain wouldn't tear this woman apart the way she was terrified it was tearing her family apart. Here, she didn't have to pretend for anyone's sake. The tears spilled out over her lashes, and she gave a low, dry sob that set her chest aching.

Wordlessly Cordy pulled her into a hug and held her, rocking her ever so slightly and whispering muffled words of comfort. Ginny felt relieved and heart-broken and furious with herself all at the same time. But she _felt_, and that was something she hadn't been able to do in a very long time. And when the first round of tears were gone and her voice felt ragged from crying, the young American tipped her face up to meet her eyes.

"Let's talk," she said simply.

So they did.

You like? You know what to do...


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer_: This story is not written for profit and no infringement of copyright is intended.

**DREAMS OF CHILDREN **

**Chapter Four**

Ginny told her everything, told her about her family and how it felt to be the only girl and about how she was sure that Ron fancied Hermione, and how Charlie was going to send her a dragon's tooth from Romania. She even mentioned Harry, relieved that she wouldn't be teased or have to worry about what she said getting back to him.

"I love all my brothers, but when it comes to me and Harry Potter, they're gits."

"Brothers usually are," Cordelia said dryly.

And then, when they'd finished their tea and were nibbling on the biscuits, and Ginny felt sure that they were the only people in the entire world still awake, then they talked about Tom Riddle, and The Chamber of Secrets.

"So, what happened?"

"I went into the chamber, Harry saved me (very gallantly too, for a 12 year old) and we got out using a phoenix."

"Oooooh," Cordy nodded. "Ok, now we've got the bullshit version of the story out of the way, what happened?"

Ginny considered not telling her a moment, but what she'd seen of Cordelia hadn't implied that she's take no for an answer. And she found she wanted to tell her, wanted to yell it from the rooftops, expel it from her body in words if she couldn't expel it from her memory. "I was lonely, and vulnerable, and thought I'd found a friend when I hadn't. And then the whole world saw what a stupid little girl I was and how I nearly got my brother's best mate killed. I-" she raised her chin defiantly. "I blame nobody else. I got what I deserved…"

"Ooooh" Cordy nodded. "So that was bullshit, part deux. _What happened_?"

Ginny stared down at the biscuit between her fingers, squeezing it and forcing it into crumbs on her lap, trying to think of what she could say. Maybe if she didn't say anything eventually Cordelia would let it drop and she'd- What? Go back to the way she'd been for the last year? Go back to sneaking around and not sleeping and barely eating and… _being scared and alone every second of every day_? Was she barmy? Why the hell would she want that? She'd managed to get herself trapped on another continent, and she was still trying to pretend everything was all right!

"I just… I wanted someone who was interested in me for a change," she whispered quietly, more ashamed of herself than she'd have ever thought possible. "There's only us and the Lovegoodes in the area, and we can't hang around with the Muggle kids, so all I have is family. And I love them, truly I do, but sometimes…"

"Sometimes you want to stand out from the crowd, to have someone just look at you, right?" Cordy said it quietly, and something about the tone of her voice told Ginny that she was speaking from experience.

"Yeah, that's it. I wanted to not be the littlest Weaseley for a bit. I wanted to be brave and interesting and grown-up. So when I realized that the diary wrote back to me, I talked to it, even though I knew there was something fishy about it. "Never trust something that thinks for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain," that's what my mum said, and I knew she was right. But I wanted to think I was grown up." Her voice dropped till it was barely audible. "I didn't care that the diary might have been dangerous, I thought I could handle it. I thought it would be an adventure, like the ones Ron and Harry had in their first year, like the ones Charlie has when he's training dragons. I was so unbelievably stupid."

"No, you were just unbelievably young," Cordy said, more it seemed to herself than to Ginny.

"That's not good enough!" the younger girl shouted, jumping suddenly to her feet. "That's not a good enough excuse for nearly getting Harry killed, for causing all that grief and pain to everyone who cared about me. I practically spit in their face when I decided to start messing around with that diary, when I chose Tom Riddle over them-" She stopped dead.

"Is that what this is really all about?" Cordelia asked her softly. "That you feel like you betrayed your family? Cos y'know what, Ginny, you didn't."

"I did! I was stupid and weak and I told him everything about me. All the stuff I never showed them, I let that sick bastard get to know me better than anyone else in the whole world! And when I found out what he was, you know what my first thought was? Not, "Oh God, what about my family, how much danger have I put them in?" No, my first thought was _embarrassment_. I was embarrassed. I was so selfish-"

"Why, because you realized you'd been had? Sweetheart, I've seen some sick, twisted stuff in my time, stuff nobody should see, and trust me, on a scale of one to ten in evilness, you're not even registering. You're like, the diet coke of evil. You said you tried to get rid of the diary, right?"

"Yeah," Ginny didn't see how that was particularly brave, it was just self-preservation and what was she supposed to have done, leave it to keep causing trouble?

"So you, an eleven year old kid, tried to take on the spirit of the most evil wizard who's ever lived, right? Honey, I've seen grown men who don't have those kinda cojones, and you're feeling guilty you didn't succeed? Plenty of people would've walked away, or tried to pretend it wasn't happening, but you tried to stand up to him. And you kept on fighting him, even after he told you it was hopeless. D'you think that that kid, that Harry, would've been able to defeat him if you hadn't softened him up first? Come on, Gin', you're smarter than that!"

Ginny paused. Shortly after they'd been let out of the hospital wing, before her family had arrived, Harry had said that she was the reason he'd been able to defeat Riddle. It was to this day the only time they'd ever broached the subject. At the time she'd thought he was just trying to make her feel better, but maybe-

"They wince when they look at me, Cordy," Ginny whispered, and in that moment Cordelia realized with a heart-breaking wrench what the little girl they'd taken out of The Chamber of Secrets must have looked like. "Harry winces when he looks at me. Why would they do that if they didn't think I was a horrible person for letting Riddle get that close to me?" She knew her voice sounded lost, tiny amid the room. "They must know, know how weak I was…"

Cordelia knelt down in front of the little witch and forced her to look into her eyes. "Sweetheart, I'm older than you, and I've fought some bad stuff: when it comes to darkness I know my shit. And you know what? Things like Tom Riddle don't feed on the weak. They feed on the strong and lead the weak. You are not weak, Ginny. If you were, you'd still be in The Chamber of Secrets, and Harry and everyone else you care about would probably be dead. But they're not, honey. You're only weak if you define yourself by what happened, if you start to believe Riddle's hype about who and what you are." Ginny could feel the tears begin to prickle at her lashes. "You made a mistake, it happens. And maybe there were selfish reasons why you kept talking to the diary. But when the time came you did what was right, and you fought for the people you love. That's all any of us can do."

"Oh, and I suppose I should just forgive everyone and move on."

"Hell no! Stay as mad at Riddle as you want, and for as long as you like. But forgive yourself Ginny, because if you don't, Tom Riddle did kill you in the Chamber of Secrets, he just let you take your time dying."

Ginny sniffled, thinking how impossible it was to be dignified when you'd been crying. What Cordelia said made sense. She'd been dying a little bit at a time ever since they'd brought her out of the chamber, she'd just been hiding the symptoms. But if she didn't stop, if she didn't stand up and face this then she might as well have stayed with Tommy Boy. _You made a mistake, it happens_. Not one person had had the bottle to put it that simply at home, and in the silence surrounding what happened her fears had been left to fester and multiply. Until one night she'd found herself in another Chamber of Secrets, on the other side of the world, and once again she'd been saved. Did she really want to see if she'd be saved a third time? And maybe, just maybe, there was a reason she'd survived. But she'd never know if she continued the way she'd been going, lurching towards catastrophe.

There was a beat of silence.

"Can I have another biscuit please?" she said softly. "I'm going to need to build my strength back up if I'm going to recover those, what did you call them? Cojones of mine." A small wan smile split her face, the first genuine expression of happiness she'd made in what felt like a lifetime. Cordy answered with her own bright grin. It was small, but it was a start.

"Ginny, this is time for the big guns. Do you know what triple chocolate mocha melt ice-cream is?" She shook her head. "Guess one of the boys is gonna be running to the corner store. Oh Angel…"

The giant man trudged down the stairs. "Cordelia, it's three in the morning. What do you want at three in the AM?"

"I thought your kind liked to sleep all day and party all night."

"That's a Joel Schumacher movie, Cordy."

"Well this is "Saving Private Ginny," and we need ice-cream."

"Would it do any good to protest?"

"None whatsoever," she said sweetly, winking at Ginny.

"Fine, I'll get my coat." He sounded uncannily like a child when he pouted like that, the little witch thought. "The usual?" Cordy nodded. The vampire went out muttering under his breath. Ginny couldn't be sure, but she thought she heard some quite advanced hexwork in amongst the whining. Maybe he had some wizarding relatives.

"Wish I could get Harry to do that stuff for me," Ginny sighed, sliding a sneaky look at her hostess. Apparently Cordy knew where this particular conversation was heading.

"He's _not_ my Harry," she said through gritted teeth; apparently she'd had this conversation before.

"Maybe he's your Ron then. Oooh, or maybe he's your Draco, have you ever considered that?"

"Good looking rich kid with a father who's soon gonna be kicking the bucket? Yeah, I could go for that." She grinned. "Course, it would seem that red-heads are more his style."

"Why I-" Ginny stopped. "You're better at this game than I am, aren't you?"

"Oh yeah."

"So, terrible weather we've been having then, eh?"

That night, Ginny remembered how to laugh.

A/N Anyone still out there? You likee, you let me know... Next one's the last one...


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer_: This story is not written for profit and no infringement of copyright is intended.

**DREAMS OF CHILDREN **

**Chapter Five**

"So how did you get home?" Harry was lying on his stomach on the bed, staring at his best friend's sister in fascination. She'd had this whole adventure without any of them finding out? And he'd thought that he and Ron were good at keeping secrets? He should've known better…

"Wes got in touch with a warlock who owed him a favour and they sent me back. It was weird, the bloke didn't use a wand or anything, he just chanted and burned some herbs. Oh, and he boiled the blood of this demon, and added it to the herbs in the fire and-"

"How did he get the blood of the demon?"

She actually blushed. "Well, Angel found one and chased it back to the hotel, and everyone was trying to capture it. But it…" she paused, seemingly unsure how to go on. "Well, it had Fred cornered, and it looked like a really big snake, in fact I think it might have been related to the one I saw in the alley..? But anyway, nobody else could stop it, so I … did." Harry hadn't seen her go this deep a shade of puce since the first morning she'd found him sitting in the kitchen at the Burrow, having been broken out of the Dursleys'.

"You… defeated a demon?" Well, he thought, she was a Weaseley, after all…

"Yup. Beat it up with an axe. Angel was dead impressed, said I "obviously had a natural talent for this sort of thing." He kept offering me a job." She smiled unconsciously at the memory, picturing Cordelia rolling her eyes and shaking her head as "El Championissimo," tried to persuade her into commuting to LA for an internship. "He said it would be good therapy for me, beating up nasty things with sticks. Said it would help with my "anger issues," over what had happened with the diary. Americans, eh?"

Harry nodded, unsure how to take the news that little Ginny Weaseley apparently had a natural knack for beating up monsters. Well why not? He had a natural knack for doing that too. But he hadn't had to be stranded with no friends in a foreign country before he found it out. They were more alike than he'd realised, he thought with an uncomfortable twinge of recognition. More alike than anyone knew.

She was staring at him now, wondering probably why he hadn't said anything else. "Are you really appalled?" she asked interestedly. "I mean, do you think I'm a freak or anything like that?" He wondered how much of this calmness was an act, a way of finding out what he really thought without leaving herself open to being embarrassed. Of course, she said she was completely over him now, so maybe she really didn't care…

"I'm not appalled, no. Just…" And he realised what this odd feeling was. He should have recognised it before. "I just feel guilty, that you went through all that on your own, and didn't have anyone to help you with it."

Now her smile was sad. "I did have someone to help me through it: I had Cordelia. She stayed in touch, asked how I was doing. She taught me how to use the Muggle post to keep her up to date. And of course, as she slowly made me realise, I had all of you." The tiny girl smiled again, shyly this time, and reached under her bed. She pulled out a shoe-box, with "Gladrags (Hogsmeade) Ltd." written on it in neon letters. Carefully she pulled off the lid and held it out for Harry to see. Inside there were dozens of letters, all with a postmark from Los Angeles, all bearing Ginny's name. Cordelia had kept in touch, alright.

"So that's how you got over Tom Riddle? You just found someone to talk to?" She nodded absent-mindedly, examining the letters, looking closely at the flowing, loose-lettered script. "And you never told any of us." That hurt a little bit, he realised. He knew that they hadn't talked much until fifth year, but surely she must have known that of all people she could talk to him about the diary.

"Of course I never told you lot!" she answered in annoyance. "Ron would've killed himself with worry thinking every time I went out I was heading back to the US or else running off to the Room of Requirement. Hermione wasn't my friend then. The twins, Percy," at this name she scowled; apparently she still hadn't forgiven her brother for trying to get Ron to drop Harry as a friend "Charlie, they all would've had heart-attacks at the thought. They didn't even know what happened, not really, and the suspicion of what might have gone on was killing them. I'd have talked to Bill, eventually in fact I did, but he was far away and always on the move."

"What about me?

She blinked, surprised. "What?"

"What about me? I went through it with you, well some of it, and I know what Voldemort is capable of. God do I know. Why didn't you talk to me?" He ducked his head. "Didn't you think I'd understand?"

She looked shocked. He'd never seen her looked shocked before. "Harry, of all the people involved, you were the one person I couldn't talk to, don't you see that? Harry, _it was my fault you were down there_. I nearly got you killed." Suddenly her eyes were bright with tears again. "I may have accepted what happened thanks to Cordy and all my friends, but I know what I did to you. It was one of his favourite things to show me, down in the Chamber after he'd completely gained control, he made me watch your death again and again. All the different ways he would do it. He wanted you to suffer, and he wanted me to know you would. I… Why do you think I fought so hard?"

"It wasn't your fault I was down there. You just made a bad decision, like your friend the American said, and then you had to try to live with the consequences."

"Isn't that advice you should be taking yourself?" she asked quietly.

"What?" He'd looked up so quickly he'd almost fallen off the bed.

Ginny looked him square in the eye; he could tell she was forcing herself not to wince or look away. She had her chin pushed high in the air, just like Ron did before he was about to get particularly stubborn. "Harry, we all know that you blame yourself for Sirius' death. You've been living like a hermit since you came here. You don't eat, you barely sleep, you won't talk to any of us." She dropped her voice. "We're worried about you."

Harry felt like he'd stepped back in time a year. "Talking about me, were you? Whispering in corners about what the nutter's going to do?"

"Oh stop being so melodramatic!" she snapped sharply. "you know we've been doing it. In fact, I bet deep down you want us to do it. When I was going through all that stuff about the diary, deep down I wanted someone, anyone to pull me up and give me a stern talking to. It's one of the things Cordy made me understand: I wanted to be caught 'cause deep down I wanted to talk about what had happened. I just didn't know how to begin. You want to talk about this Harry. And I think that maybe I'm better placed than the others to help you. I know what real guilt feels like."

"You never killed anyone!" he shouted. It seemed bizarre, like it was some sort of achievement.

"I nearly killed you! I _thought_ I'd killed you!" she yelled back. She stood up, glowering up at him, and suddenly he realised that she wasn't that much shorter than he was anymore. "One wrong decision, one rash action, that's all it takes! At least you were only rash once: I went through a whole process of screwing up with that bloody diary!" She was out of breath now, her face scarlet with rage. "It's bloody terrible that you should have been in that position! It's bloody terrible that they didn't trust you enough to tell you all the stuff you should've known! It's bloody terrible that the only person you consider family was killed! It's bloody terrible that you should have to take the blame on your shoulders! But sometimes LIFE'S BLOODY TERRIBLE!" They were glaring at each other, very nearly nose to nose, like enemies.

"But it'll be even more bloody terrible if you keep this bottled up inside till it starts to hurt you. 'Cause Sirius wouldn't want that, Harry. You know he wouldn't."

She sat down wearily on the bed, all the energy seeming to go out of her. Unthinkingly, he did the same. "Cordy said it best: "you made a mistake, it happens." You've got to get on with your life. You've got to live, or Sirius died for nothing." Her voice dropped till it was just a whisper. "Either you try to get over this, or Voldemort killed you in The Department of Mysteries, he just let you take your time dying."

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but nothing came out. There was nothing he could say to her. She, of all his friends, understood what it was like to be face to face with Voldemort. Harry knew that he could be self-righteous sometimes, that he thought himself tougher than the others and therefore stronger because of what he'd been through, but she'd been through something very like it. _Voldemort had been in her head. _He couldn't really claim to have had a worse time than Ginny. And he couldn't really claim that she wouldn't understand what he'd been through. But how the hell was he to begin talking about this stuff to her? She was little Ginny Weaseley for crying out loud! Except…

Except, she wasn't little Ginny Weaseley anymore. She hadn't been little Ginny Weaseley for quite some time. She might still look it, but that was all. And hadn't she been in the Department of Mysteries too? Hadn't she hurt herself trying to get over an encounter with Tom Riddle? Of all the people in the world besides Sirius, she would understand. And she wanted to help.

He cleared his throat. "So you're going to do a Cordelia on me?" he said, trying to sound jolly and light-hearted. She nodded. "Why?"

Ginny paused for along time, her head cocked to one side. "Because someone once did a Cordelia on me. Because I always said I wanted to be Cordelia when I grew up. Because…" A sad smile split her face. "Because it's the best way to honour her memory. Oh, and because if I don't your head'll explode and then I'll have to clean up the almighty mess that used to be The Boy Who Lived." She felt under her pillow for something, producing a chocolate frog with a flourish. "Here, chocolate helps get the vocal chords loose."

He hesitated for a moment then took it. "Okay," he said softly. "Okay. Where do I begin?"

"Wherever you want to, Harry. I'm not going anywhere."

That night Harry Potter remembered how to laugh.

A/N That's all folks! Hope you enjoyed it. Thanks to everyone who reviewed and hope it didn't disappoint: cheers!


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